


Violet Holmes & Sons

by hotchoco195



Series: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes & Family [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Jenna is the Boss, Mistletoe, Mummy Issues, Mycroft Knows Best, Sort-of kidnapping, fem!Moriarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's been putting off the introduction between the children and Mummy for years. Mycroft decides enough is enough.</p><p>Jenna, as always, feels the need to contribute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violet Holmes & Sons

_It’s Mummy’s birthday next week – MH_

_She’ll be 75, Sherlock – MH_

_It’s really past time that you told her – MH_

_She might not be around much longer – MH_

_The children are old enough – MH_

_I will bring her to the estate if it makes things easier – MH_

_She’s coming on the 22 nd – MH_

_I will send a car to pick the three of you up – MH_

_Don’t bother – SH_

 

Sherlock contrived to be out of the house on the 22nd. He took the children to stay with John and Mary for the weekend, and they readily agreed because Meredith was particularly enamoured with little Jacob and Nicholas thought his Uncle John was great fun.

Mary dried the dishes while the two men sipped their tea. The doctor looked out the window at the children running across the snowy lawn and smiled. “They’re going to wear themselves out.”

“Good,” Mary sighed, “I could use the rest.”

“Count yourself lucky, my dear. We are not raising a pair of tiny geniuses.”

Sherlock inhaled wearily. “Indeed. Meredith’s latest trick is picking locks.”

“Who taught her that?”

“My prime suspect is Sebastian.”

“How’s the fencing going?”

“She loves it. It’s another form of chess.”

John shot a careful look towards Mary and lowered his voice, still casual. “And Jenna?”

“Seems fine. We don’t exactly meet for coffee, John.”

“Still...working?”

“Less than she did,” Sherlock smirked, “I think she also struggles to keep up with the two of them.”

“Oh, I meant to say something earlier. Mycroft called.”

The detective frowned. “What did he want?”

“Wanted to know if I had plans to see you, something about a birthday?”

Sherlock shot out of his chair and John leaned back, startled.

“Sherlock, what is it?”

“I apologise but we need to go.”

“Uh, sure. Are you planning to explain why?”

Sherlock opened the side door and leaned out. “Children, we’re leaving!”

“Da! We only just got here.” Nicholas complained.

There was a knock at the front door and Mary set down her tea towel. “I’ll get it.”

“No!” Sherlock pointed at her.

“Sherlock?” she frowned.

The door opened and all three of them looked up warily as someone walked into the hall. John stood and pushed Mary towards the outside door as he grabbed a gun from the top shelf of the china cabinet.

“Oh really, John.” She tutted but ran outside to gather up the kids.

Mycroft walked into the kitchen and John raised his gun before realising who it was and sighing loudly. “Jesus, Mycroft, just scare the hell out of us.”

“I did knock.”

“Go away Mikey.” Sherlock fumed.

“I will not. I am taking you to see Mummy and that’s final.”

“What am I supposed to say to her?”

“I will help. Now get in the car, and try to be gracious about it.”

John stuck his head outside. “It’s okay!”

Mary herded the little Holmeses back towards the house, Jacob on her hip. Meredith and Nicholas smiled as soon as they spotted Mycroft.

“Uncle Mycroft!”

“Hello dears.” He chuckled as they both clung to him.

“Mycroft,” Mary smiled, “You gave us a bit of a fright.”

“And again, I apologise. I shall send you some of the honey from our estate to make it up to you.”

“Yes please.” John grinned.

“What are you doing here Uncle Mycroft?” Meredith frowned.

“I’ve come to collect you. We’re going to the family manor.”

They looked at their father questioningly but he shrugged. “I suppose we are.”

 

Sherlock was tense the entire ride, though Meredith and Nicholas were bouncing up and down with questions about the house.

“How long have the family owned it?”

“How old is the building?”

“Why haven’t we ever been before?”

“Are the grounds very big?”

“Who lives there normally?”

“Do you own it because you’re the eldest?”

“Is it where you and Da grew up?”

“One at a time!” Mycroft held up a finger for silence.

Sherlock twitched as they pulled up to the large iron gates. They stood open, the driveway snaking up towards the house on the top of the hill. It was a combination of Georgian and Victorian architecture, pieces tacked on by some past ancestor to create a low but expansive pale yellow manor house. It was surrounded on all sides by white lawns until it hit a scattering of bare trees. There were no other houses in sight.

“I like it,” Nicholas smiled, “It’s like a knight’s castle, overlooking his domain.”

“It seems very lonely.” Meredith stuck out her bottom lip.

Sherlock pressed his elbow against the door. “It was.”

The driver stopped in the circular drive at the entrance and opened the door for them. Sherlock sighed.

“It is important you be on your best behaviour while we’re here, understood?”

“Yes Da.”

“I mean it. No snooping, no rattling people with observations – Merry, I saw that – and remember the less said about your mother the better.”

“We’ll be good.” She promised.

“Really Sherlock, the staff put up with you as a child. I think they are used to it.”

He scowled at his brother and waved them towards the door. A much older gent with a straight back and a comfortable black blazer was waiting in the foyer.

“Master Holmes, Master Sherlock.”

“Reggie,” Mycroft nodded, handing the man his umbrella, “Is everything ready for tea?”

“Mrs Holmes is waiting in the conservatory.”

The children were staring at him curiously and Sherlock cleared his throat. “This is Reggie. He’s been here since before I was born.”

“So you have lots of stories about Da and Uncle Mycroft?” Nicholas wrinkled his nose.

If Reggie was surprised it didn’t show on his face. “Far too many sir.”

“He’ll have to share them later. Let’s have some tea, and then perhaps your father would like to show you around.”

“I could take them now-”

“ _After_ tea, Sherly.”

Mycroft led the way to the conservatory, not giving Sherlock a chance to put it off. They came to a set of glass doors that opened into a sort of solarium, a large room full of plants that looked out over the grounds outside. There was a white table spread with a cloth and various sandwiches, a pot of tea in the middle. In the chair closest to the door sat a woman who looked like she had once been very delicate but to who age had granted a sort of steely demeanour. She was very like Mycroft in both expression and features, though she had Sherlock’s soft mouth. She wore a long navy blue dress that hung off her slender frame, and a silver locket that matched her pearly grey hair.

She turned as they came in and frowned, confused by the odd group. Sherlock smiled despite his nerves.

“ _Joyeux anniversaire Maman_.” He kissed her cheek.

“Sherlock! Has it been so long? I hardly recognised you.”

“I’m sorry. I have been quite preoccupied in recent years.”

“And who is this?” she squinted at them critically.

“This is Meredith and Nicholas.”

Mycroft cleared his throat to chastise Sherlock for his ambiguous answer but Meredith took it upon herself to do the introductions properly. “ _Joyeux anniversaire, Grand-mere. Il est bon de vous rencontrer.”_

“ _Enchanté_ , Meredith,” her gaze flicked to Sherlock with an iron stab, “It seems we have much to talk about.”

“Would you like to pour for us, Merry?” Mycroft asked as he sat.

Sherlock pushed the children towards his mother so he could sit further away but she grabbed his hand.

“I think I would like you beside me, Sherly. We have catching up to do.”

“Nicholas will be quite alright next to me, won’t he?” Mycroft added, “We can discuss your latest novel.”

Sherlock glowered at his brother but sat stiffly, knowing how much trouble he was in from the death stare Mummy was giving him. They sat in silence as Meredith poured the tea and handed them their cups.

“Tell me more about yourself, my dear. How old are you?”

“Ten.” She replied politely, giving her grandmother as thorough an examination as the old woman was giving her.

“And your brother?”

“Four.”

“Your accent is very good.”

“Thank you.”

“Manners too. Better than some people.” She flashed Sherlock another accusing gaze.

Merry tactfully turned to Mycroft and Nicholas’ conversation as if she wasn’t listening. Sherlock knew that she was but he was grateful for the act at least.

“ _Ten years_ , Sherly. Am I so horrid you couldn’t bear to even drop me a line? And your brother, covering for you like he always has. You should be ashamed, dragging him into this.”

“It was more complicated than that.”

“Uncomplicate it for me.”

“I didn’t even know Meredith existed until she was four.”

“And you’ve still waited all this time to tell me I had grandchildren.”

“Their mother...would have made visiting you difficult.”

”I would have come to you. How is this woman who convinced you to keep such a thing secret? I don’t see a wedding ring.”

“We’re not married.” He ground out.

“And you thought I’d disapprove?”

“With Mycroft busy with his work I didn’t want to disappoint you when you found out I had no plans to wed either.”

“Oh, as if such nonsense matters! All I want is for my sons to be happy and for someone to carry on the Holmes line – and now I have both.”

“It would seem so.”

“You must stay here with us. I’m not going back until after New Year’s and your brother will have to head into town before then. You and the children can keep me company.”

“I shouldn’t keep them away from their mother so long-”

“Nonsense! She should understand I need some time to get to know my grandchildren! And if she doesn’t like it she can always call me.”

Sherlock suppressed a shudder at the idea of a conversation between Mummy and Jenna – but only just. “I’m sure I can convince her it will good for Merry and Nicholas.”

Mycroft shot him an equally apprehensive look over the table but didn’t stop his conversation with the boy.

“So what’s her name?”

“Jenna.”

“Unusual.” Mummy sniffed as though Sherlock and Mycroft were perfectly normal names.

“She’s Irish.”

“Ah. And you’re not in a relationship?”

“Mummy…”

“What? You have _two_ children; clearly there has been something between you in the past.”

“I’d rather not discuss this with everyone at the table-”

“They’re not listening.”

Sherlock very much feared everyone was in fact listening but god forbid he say so to Mummy. “Very well. Jenna and I are not romantically inclined.”

Mummy laughed. “Oh Sherly, you do have some funny ideas sometimes.”

He gave Mycroft another unhappy glare. He’d make his brother pay for this somehow.

 

After tea Mycroft took Mummy and the children into the lounge for a game and Sherlock slipped off to call Jenna and tell her about the change of plans. He made his way upstairs to his old room, the door opening smoothly when he turned the handle. It looked as if nothing had changed since he was a teenager. Reggie had cleaned and tidied a bit but it was the same bed with the same deep blue sheets, the same scientific journals stacked neatly on the desk. Sherlock opened the wardrobe and stifled a laugh at the clothes hanging there. His eighteen year old self had been very enthusiastic about black. He strolled around touching things, remembering. It was like a three dimensional trip through his mind palace. In reality he was just stalling, not wanting to get into an argument with Jenna. He sat on the bed and sighed, finally pulling out his phone.

“Yes?”

“Jenna.”

“Sherly! How are you, my sweet? Everything good with the kiddies?”

“Not quite.”

“Oh?”

“Mycroft kidnapped us.”

“Reaaaaaaally?”

“He forced me to bring the children to the estate. It’s Mummy’s birthday and he flew her in from France.”

“That sounds nice, meeting their grandmother. Don’t be such a sourpuss Sherly; I’m sure she’ll love them.”

“She wants us to stay until New Year’s.”

There was a dead silence, and when Jenna eventually replied it was like the cutting whine of a violin. “Well that’s just not possible.”

“I did make my own objections but she-”

“She what? She’s an old woman Sherlock! I understand caving to big bad Mycroft but you’re in your forties with two children – it’s time to let the Mummy’s boy complex go.”

“I do not have a complex,” he hissed, “But I can’t exactly explain the situation, can I? She’s got no idea who you are!”

“Just say no, Sherlock.”

“Look – I’ll make it up to you. You can have them for a straight stretch or I’ll take them when you need the time off.”

“Sherlock-”

But he hung up before she could complain.

*****

The next few weeks weren’t so bad after all. Mycroft went back to the city with a promise to return on Christmas Eve. Mummy spent all day with the children while they proved how clever they were over and over and Sherlock sat to the side trying to avoid the feeling he was surrounded by judgemental women. Mycroft he could handle, but Jenna and Mummy were two forces he’d never wanted to be caught between – hence why he’d never mentioned the children to Mummy. They seemed to love her though, enjoying the novelty of a grandparent and the attention that came with it.

Sherlock was just pulling on his shirt one morning a few days before Christmas when there was a commotion downstairs. He frowned at the sound of multiple people talking, walking around, doors being opened and closed. The detective quickly hurried into the hall. Jenna stood in the entrance in a powder blue dress and white coat. Sebastian was beside her looking more ridiculous in his designer jumper than John ever had in any of his bargain monstrosities. The children were hopping around excitedly while Reggie guided Moriarty’s chauffeur inside with the luggage. Sherlock pounded down the stairs, brow twitching.

“Jenna!” he gave her a faux-hug to hiss in her ear, “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t have you monopolising Christmas, could I?” she smirked wickedly.

“I told you I had no say in the matter.”

“You didn’t tell us Ma was coming!” Meredith beamed.

“Yes, well...merry Christmas.” Sherlock muttered.

“Sherly?”

He flinched at the word, turning to find his mother standing on the stairs with a very critical look. He was about to start the explanations when Jenna smiled.

“You must be Violet. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Jenna.”

“Ah. I’ve been hearing all about you recently.” Mummy stepped down carefully.

“I hope you don’t mind but when Sherly said the children were staying I sort of invited myself up.”

“I think we can manage, can’t we Sherlock? And I’ve been anxious to meet you. And your...” she looked at Sebastian questioningly.

“My brother Sebastian.”

“Nice to meet you.” He ducked his head respectfully.

“Reggie, do find some rooms for our guests,” Mummy waved a hand, “Would you like some tea?”

“I’d love some.” Jenna grinned and offered her arm.

Mummy nodded with approval and took it, guiding her towards the conservatory. Nicholas grabbed his sister’s hand and ran down the hall after them.

Sherlock gave Sebastian a very dark look. “You realise Mycroft will be here tomorrow?”

“I tried to talk her out of it but she said it was the holidays and we could all ‘get along’.” The marksman rolled his eyes.

Sherlock sighed. “If he tries to arrest her I won’t stop him.”

“That’s my job.”

“Keep the violence to a minimum Sebastian,” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, “And for god’s sake take off that jumper, it’s not fooling anyone.”

 

He walked into the conservatory to find everyone sipping tea so amiably it was like a Jane Austen novel. Mummy and Jenna were chatting in a French dialect just obscure enough that the children wouldn’t understand. Sherlock raised his brows but tried to look disinterested as he sat and poured himself a cup.

“I told Sherlock he was a fool to hide all this from me for so long,” Mummy said, “As though I’d disapprove of you!”

“He has the strangest way of looking at things.” Jenna laughed.

“Oh, you should have known him when he was younger!”

“I’m sure you’re got plenty of stories.”

“Hundreds! Him and Mycroft, both as bad as their father.”

Jenna’s smile turned very sinister – in Sherlock’s opinion, anyway. “I’d love to hear them.”

“I don’t think so.” the detective cut in.

“What are you speaking, Da?” Nicholas tugged his sleeve curiously.

“Apache French. It’s a very old form and not very polite.”

“But Ma and _Grand-mere_ are both speaking it too.” Meredith pointed out.

Sherlock shot them a look. “You’re right. Perhaps we should all stick to English.”

“Boo, don’t spoil our fun, Sherly.” Jenna clucked her tongue.

“I must say you’re not what I expected.” Mummy said.

“No?” Jenna grinned.

“No. I can’t believe Sherly found a woman so clever and well-mannered who could tolerate him for more than a day.”

“Aren’t you supposed to find my quirks endearing?” he scowls at his mother.

“And I do darling, but you’re not the most marriageable man in England.”

The M word made him cringe but Jenna just set down her cup gracefully. “Trust me Violet, my tolerance doesn’t stretch that far.”

“Oh? Such a shame. You two make a lovely couple.”

“I promise if I was the marrying kind, there’s no one else I’d pick.” Jenna winked at him.

It was a clever comment, designed to agree with Violet while making it clear the subject was closed, and Sherlock felt a wave of relief and perhaps gratitude. He couldn’t have coped if Jenna had decided to play along and started teasing him too.

“Have you been keeping up with your lessons while you’ve been here?” she asked the children.

“We’ve been practicing with _Grand-mere_.” Nicholas nodded.

“They’re such bright little things,” she smiled fondly, “They remind me so much of Mycroft and Sherly.”

“I’ve got high hopes for them.” Jenna agreed.

“Speaking of Mycroft, when did he say he was getting here?” Sherlock asked in a pointed attempt to remind Jenna she shouldn’t stay if she valued her freedom. There was no way Mycroft would let her go after seeing him open and vulnerable with his family.

Mummy frowned. “I think he said four o’clock.”

“So late? My, they do keep him busy.” Jenna raised her brows with a smile at Sherlock.

“I told him to come sooner if he can get away, but he has a very important job you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

 

Reggie had put them (under Sebastian’s directions) in a separate wing of the house to Mycroft’s bedroom, which meant they were opposite Sherlock and the children. After dinner was finished and he’d tucked Merry and Nicholas in, Sherlock walked softly down the hall and knocked on Jenna’s door.

“Come in.”

She was sitting in the armchair by the window with a glass of brandy held under her nose, legs crossed as she studied the frosted pane. Sherlock closed the door with a click behind him but didn’t move closer. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I told you Sherly, I wasn’t going to miss Christmas.”

“Mycroft-”

“Mycroft’s not going to drag me out of here while Violet’s around, and I’ll leave before her.”

“He could have you followed.”

She turned her head lazily, bottom lip out. “Aw, are you concerned about me Sherly? Maybe Violet was right, hmm? Maybe you do fancy me.”

He scowled and slunk over to lean on the bed post. “I just don’t want to upset her. I don’t want a _scene_. And the children need you around.”

“Indeed. Well I’m touched but I think we can handle the Ice Man. After all I’ve managed for over a decade now.”

He nodded succinctly and walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He shrugged and waved a hand as if not sure what the right word was. “For getting along with her.”

Jenna grinned. “It was hardly a chore Sherlock.”

“All the same, thank you.”

She took on a more thoughtful look. “Don’t worry about it.”

He smirked slightly. “If you ever need me to come along and play nice with _your_ parents-”

“Oh god no,” she screwed up her face, “Bringing home my non-Catholic non-alcoholic non-husband? I’d rather die.”

He snickered and let himself out.

*****

Sherlock was less tense at breakfast, trusting Jenna to keep up her innocent act. He encouraged her to take the children for the day, figuring he could have some alone time. He loved the children but being stuck on the estate with them was a tad stifling.

He spent the day in the library. The room hadn’t changed since his father’s death, the same inkwell on the desk, the same scarf over the back of the chair as if he’d just put it down. There were some old classics that Sherlock had missed having access to, and he wondered if Mycroft would let him take them back to London after Mummy was gone. He was so enthralled he completely lost track of the time until a car pulled up outside. Sherlock’s head snapped up as the door closed, hurriedly shoving the book back on the shelf. He had to intercept Mycroft before he saw Jenna and try to impress upon him that Mummy was quite fond of the criminal, so maybe wait until Christmas was over before starting any trouble?

He didn’t run but his strides were long and quick as he headed for the front door. It was too late– he could see Reggie ahead of him guiding Mycroft into the lounge. He bustled past the old butler and inched up to the door, as if afraid all hell was about to break loose. Mycroft was staring at Jenna sitting next to Mummy, the two of them in almost identical black dresses. Sebastian was eying the elder Holmes carefully from the chair next to Jenna. Merry and Nicholas were on the floor playing with Mycroft’s old train set but they looked up happily at him.

“Uncle Mycroft!”

“Uncle Mikey!”

That seemed to break his concentration. He smiled. “Hello children. I hope you’re well?”

“I’ve got a loose tooth.” Nicholas wiggled it.

“Excellent. You must put it under your pillow when it falls out.”

“The Tooth Fairy’s not real, Uncle Mycroft.” The boy rolled his eyes.

Mummy crossed her hands in her lap. “Well, are you too old to give your mother a kiss?”

He shot another look at Jenna before making his way to the couch carefully, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “ _Joyeux Noël Maman_.”

“ _Joyeux Noël_ Mycroft. I trust you know Jenna?”

“We’ve met once.”

“Oh?” Moriarty raised a brow and offered her hand, “I don’t recall it.”

“I popped by when Nicholas was born. You were asleep.” He kissed her hand as quickly as possible, straightening up.

“Ah. Sherly never mentioned it.” She fixed the detective with a piercing look.

“Sherlock, might I have a word in the kitchen for a moment?” Mycroft smiled amiably but he could see the strain in it.

“You just got here Mikey. Don’t fuss about things.” Mummy tutted.

“I assure you, once I have this detail settled I shall be the picture of relaxation.”

“Go on then.” She waved them off.

Sherlock followed his brother to the kitchen, not particularly looking forward to this conversation. As soon as Mycroft had established Reggie wasn’t around and closed the door, he rounded on Sherlock.

“What is she doing here?”

“She didn’t think it was fair we were asking her to have Christmas without the children.”

“Our roof, Sherlock! She’s under our roof!”

“And you think I wanted her here? I didn’t get a vote Mycroft. _Mummy_ has decided to adopt her. And need I remind you, the only reason she’s here is because you strongarmed me into coming.”

“If anyone at Vauxhall knew I’d spent Christmas with Jenna Moriarty-”

“I’m sure it would be no worse than them knowing your brother has two children by her. You’ve kept that quiet for years, I think you can keep a lid on this.”

Mycroft huffed and straightened. Sherlock grabbed his elbow.

“Just be civil.”

“I’m perfectly capable of that.” His brother snapped, shaking him off.

“I mean it Mycroft. No arrests, no attempted interrogations. It’s the bloody holidays so let’s just get through it, alright?”

He sighed. “Very well. But if she tries anything I shall deal with it.”

“Agreed. Sebastian’s her brother now, by the way.”

“Charming,” Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Is he aware how ridiculous he looks?”

 

Somehow, _somehow_ they got through Christmas Eve. If Sherlock had been asked later to explain it he would have said it was Mycroft’s consumption of brandy coupled with an all-around respect for Mummy. They were able to sit in the lounge chatting like a fairly normal family, Sebastian half-heartedly backing up Jenna’s invented childhood stories, Mycroft gnashing his teeth silently whenever Mummy said something too personal. Sherlock wasn’t quite sure why he was so bothered; for someone acting like he and Jenna were still at war he’d been fairly slack about catching her since Merry came into their lives. Jenna sort of was family now in some strange disconnected way. Perhaps it would be alright if she knew their history - after all it wasn’t like she’d gone out of her way to hurt Mycroft in recent memory. Maybe the feud was all in their heads.

At ten Violet clapped her hands. “Alright dears, time for bed.”

“I’ll escort you.” Mycroft supplied quickly, half-standing.

“I can manage myself, thank you,” she gave Moran a sidelong glance, “Although if Sebastian would like to offer I wouldn’t say no.”

Mycroft’s eye twitched so quickly only Sherlock noticed. Jenna’s lip curled at the side. “I’m sure he’d love to, wouldn’t you Bastian?”

The blond smiled politely. “My pleasure, Mrs Holmes.”

He held out his arm and she chuckled, letting him lead her out.

“Come along children.” Sherlock waved to them.

“Aw Da, I’m not tired yet.” Meredith pouted.

“Well the faster you go to sleep the faster it will be Christmas.”

She took Nicholas’ hand and followed him out, leaving Mycroft and Jenna staring at each other across the room. He took another sip of his brandy. He’d had a few glasses, enough to get just past tipsy without making his tongue too loose. She sat poised on the sofa like a cobra or a jungle cat, smirking at him.

“So Mikey. What did you ask Santa for?”

“I must admire your audacity. Insinuating yourself into our mother's favour, passing yourself off as whatever mild lady-like character you’ve chosen. It’s outstanding, really.”

“Who says it’s an act?” she wrinkled her nose.

Mycroft scoffed. “I think I know you better than that.”

“Do you?” she raised a brow, “Then you must be right.”

She stood and sauntered over, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. She leaned forward and rested her hands on the arms of his chair. Mycroft pressed himself back in the seat, trying to maintain the distance between them, but Jenna just smiled.

“I know it’s not technically over our heads but I think we can make an exception.” She nodded towards the mantel.

Mycroft followed her gaze to the decorative sprigs. “Mistletoe.”

He didn’t have time to react before she pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t invasive or drawn out, just a fairly chaste sort of schoolyard kiss and then she straightened. “Merry Christmas, Mikey.”

 

Sherlock found him there when he’d finished tucking the children in, still in his chair, the brandy glass forgotten in his hand as Mycroft stared straight ahead.

“Where’s Jenna?” the detective asked, “Did something happen?”

His brother blinked and took a large sip. “She is the most unsettling woman I have ever known.”

Sherlock flopped onto the couch. “Good, it’s not just me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Violet is French as a nod to the ACD canon.


End file.
